


Apologies

by Aliawrites



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: A bit sappy, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e12 Wolves of Deep Brooklyn, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliawrites/pseuds/Aliawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, Jason was Marco's only kid. I mean, can you imagine what he must be going through?"</p><p>Abe realises what he said and remembers that Henry maybe can imagine it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies

Sitting in their living room drinking a beer with Abe and his two old army buddies, Henry felt happy and reminded of how blessed he’d been to be the doctor Abigail had found that night in 1945 to check over an orphaned refugee baby. 

The three old friends were laughing and talking about mischief they’d gotten up to during their time in the army - both before and after they’d shipped out to Vietnam. Henry sat back, smiling and listening quietly. He knew what this was. Remembering times when they were happy and the idea of burying a son was too foreign a concept to even consider.

Quickly, Henry put thoughts like that out of his head before he became maudlin. He’d faced that fear when Abe had shipped off all those years ago and would someday have to face burying his son. Downing the last of his beer in a gulp, he ruthlessly put those thoughts aside. It will happen, he knew that, but not today.

“Ahh, Henry doesn’t need to hear about that!”

Henry was shaken finally from his thoughts by Abe’s exclamation. He’d only been half listening, but focussing on what they’d been saying he realised he’d heard something in there about R&R and an Australian brothel. Raising an eyebrow he smirked at Abe’s discomfort and Marco and Jerry clearly noticed it as well because they started laughing.

“Aw, Abe,” Jerry crowed. “Henry’s a big boy. He can handle knowing you were a lech…”

“No, no, no,” Abe said cutting him off forcefully, waving his hands in the air as if to wipe the subject completely from the room. “No, next topic please!”

Henry laughed for a minute along with Abe’s friends, but then took pity on his obviously horrified son and stood.

“Well, thank you gentlemen for some rather interesting bits of information I didn’t know about Abraham before, but I shall leave you to your reminiscences before he combusts from embarrassment. I think I’ll head out for a walk,” he added for Abe’s benefit.

“Ahh, no, Henry, wait,” Abe said, halting his retreat. “I’ve got dinner in the oven. It’ll be ready in about half an hour.”

“Well, you three…” Henry began, still trying to make his excuses, but Abe interrupted him again.

“No, no. Jerry’s got his bowling league and Marco’s wife is picking him up in about 15 minutes. So, don’t go far, ok? I made your favourite.”

Henry inhaled deeply, for the first time noticing the scents escaping the kitchen. “Is that…?”

“Roast venison,” Abe said proudly. “Potatoes, carrots… and a raspberry soufflé for after,” he added enticingly.

“Lucky!” Marco said. “My wife is picking me up to go to her sister’s for dinner. Nice lady, but a terrible cook.”

“Yeah,” Jerry agreed, jealously. “I’m having pizza and beer at the bowling alley which I love as much as the next guy, but that smells good!”

“I am lucky,” Henry agreed. “Abraham is an amazing cook. I’ll just go wash up,” he said with an appraising look, not sure what had earned him a such a special effort meal. “Pleasure to meet you Marco, Jerry.”

Jerry held up his beer in salute but Marco stood and walked over to him to take his hand. “Thank you again Dr. Morgan,” he said seriously. “For taking such good care of my boy’s body, and helping to make sure the man who…” he broke off, choking back his emotions but Henry understood and didn’t wait to make Marco have to say the words no father should have to say - ‘the man who murdered his son’.

“Quite alright, Marco. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The happy memories had given way to a reminder of more recent tragic events as Henry left the three friends to finish their beers and conversations. Henry felt guilty, sure his attempt to allow Abe his space with his old friends had backfired and undone the small relief Marco had gotten in sharing happy memories with friends.

With a sigh, he let himself out onto their terrace, breathing in the crisp, cool air and thinking rather too much about the past. He was pretty sure he’d met Jerry and Marco along with several other angry young men when Abe himself had been an angry young man, all of them recently returned from Vietnam and living in California. Henry had greyed his hair and dressed and held himself in every way he could to look a respectable age to be his son’s father to visit him.

He’d been surprised when, after returning from Vietnam, Abe had settled in California to go to university (though it seemed like his primary goal while there was to be more of an “activist” than student). Abe had hated California when they’d lived there when he’d been 15. The whole time there he’d been insufferable and complaining about the heat and how much better everything had been in New York.

Yet, on his return from Vietnam, he couldn’t get out of New York fast enough to head for Berkeley. Henry’d been glad Abe had returned to studies, but had wished he’d have stayed in New York to do it - and that he’d been studying medicine of course. And that he’d never worn tie-dye…

“It’s a bit cold to eat out here.”

Henry straightened, and turned his head to smile at Abe standing in the doorway. “Have your friends gone?”

“Yes, you coming in?”

“Did Jerry live in that place with you in California? He seems familiar,” Henry asked, ushering Abe back inside and heading back downstairs.

“He did for a while,” Abe replied, impressed that Henry recognised him. “Don’t worry, he was nearly constantly high back then. No chance he’d remember you or I wouldn’t have had him over.”

“I know,” Henry said, there was no one he trusted more than Abe. “So what’s the occasion? Not that I’m complaining about roast venison by any means, but it’s definitely a special occasion sort of meal.”

Turning to the kitchen, Abe stalled by handing Henry things to help get the meal on the table. Henry let the topic drop, settling in as he and Abe both filled their plates.

“Mmm,” he hummed after taking a bite. “Delicious, as always Abe. I don’t know what I did to deserve…”

“I owe you an apology,” Abe blurted suddenly, cutting off Henry’s compliment. “And a couple of thank yous.”

“Abe, it’s my job to investigate suspicious deaths, you know I was happy to do so for Jason. You don’t have to…”

“Ahh, I do,” Abe interrupted him again, setting his cutlery down and looking at his plate for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking up at Henry seriously. “You went back to work to investigate Jason’s death because he was my friend’s son. The other ME was going to rule it an accident and it’s only thanks to you that we know the truth, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Henry said, deciding not to argue the matter. It was his job to do both as a medical examiner, and as a father - and as such, it was nothing Abe needed to thank him for, or make a special dinner for. Showing gratitude though, even for people just doing their jobs, was a behaviour Abigail and he had worked to instill in Abe, so he graciously accepted.

“As for the apologies I owe you…” Abe went on, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You were right, I shouldn’t have broken into Clausten’s boat and stolen those documents. Even though they helped,” he added as an excuse to mitigate his actions. “You were right, having gotten that way, they couldn’t have been used in court.”

“That is true,” Henry allowed. “And you’ll deserve Jo’s dressing down when she gets her hands on you,” he added with a pointed look before smiling. “Still, not worth losing sleep over though. She likes you so she’ll go relatively easy on you. Eat before it gets cold,” he said, motioning to Abe’s nearly untouched plate.

“Yeah,” Abe said, taking a bite of meat and chewing slowly before swallowing and clearing his throat again.

“I think I come by it honestly,” Abe said, looking meaningfully at his father. “But I get wrapped up in what I’m doing or a singular thing I’m focussed on thinking about and don’t always think of the bigger picture…”

“Like breaking into a suspected murder’s yacht to steal evidence?” Henry prompted after Abe paused.

“Yeah,” Abe admitted. “And like trying to guilt you into letting me help more by suggesting you couldn’t imagine what Marco was going through.” 

It was only after walking away after that conversation that Abe had registered the look on his father’s face after he’d demanded if Henry could imagine what it must be like for Marco to have lost his only son. It’d taken only a moment longer to realize that Henry had indeed imagined what it would be like to lose his only son - when Abe had shipped off to war, then as he'd grown older, and especially this last week as he’d helped find the killer of Abe’s friend’s only son.

“Oh, Abe,” Henry replied, laying his cutlery down and reaching over to take his son’s hand. “It’s OK…”

“No it’s not,” Abe insisted though. “It’s not! If I’d thought for a moment, I’d have realized what a stupid thing that was to say to you. 

“Circumstances require that we live like this, as friends and business associates as far as anyone else is concerned, but you and I know different. If it weren’t for your condition and we were just a plain old normal father and son and I was nearly 70 and you were in your 90s or something, would I have said something cruel like that?

“You’re my dad, and that was a cruel and stupid thing to say to a father,” Abe said, taking his hand back to rub both hands across his face. 

“I was raised better than that,” Abe said finally with a sigh. “And I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this was for Marco, or how hard it was for you, or how hard it is for you watching me get old and curmudgeonly and ever closer to an end you don’t think you’ll ever get yourself.

“I make light of it sometimes,” Abe admitted. “Maybe it makes it easier for me, but parents aren’t supposed to outlive their kids, I know that much. So, ah,” he stuttered, finally coming to the end of his little speech. “Yeah, I’m sorry. For saying that stupid thing, for going against you by breaking in to Clausten’s yacht and not leaving it to you as you’d told me to, for getting old.. and thank you for going above and beyond to make sure that my friend didn’t have to wonder for the rest of his life what really happened with his son.”

“That was quite a speech,” Henry said gently after a moment, surprised by the ‘emotional’ outburst from his usually reticent to show emotion son. “And I appreciate it,” Henry added, making sure Abe knew he was taking him seriously. 

“You know how much I don’t want to think about you getting older,” he said, holding his own emotions back now. “I don’t know how your mother and I got so lucky to have you as our son, but I’m glad we did. You’re a good man Abraham Morgan, and I’m glad to call you my son, and my friend. Apology accepted and no more feeling guilty - not that I don’t appreciate this delicious meal.”

He stood then and leaned over to give Abe a loud smack of a kiss on his forehead, reaching up too to muss his hair at the same time, trying to lighten the mood again as much as he wanted to show his son how much he loved him.

“Let’s eat it before it’s completely cold!” he said, digging in.

“Ack! Dad!” Abe complained, but he also smiled and after quickly smoothing his hair, he dug in to dinner, and started up a completely different topic of conversation about the play they’d agreed to go and see before it’s run was finished.


End file.
